Don't call me madam

I hate being called "madam", it makes me feel so old. A young girl asked me if I "wanted chocolate on your capuccino, madam," today.
I feel like the Dick Emery character who used to hiss: "miss," when called madam.
But it's true, it's a long time since I've been a miss, and unlike Lulu I don't have the elixir of youth.

Clever Marketing

I ended up ordering a Jack Wills sweater even though it costs quite a bit more than I would usually spend. (although tbh I got this nearly new on ebay.) I was curious about what the attraction was.
Opened up the wrapper, seemed like many other fashion tops.
Then I look at the labelling: just like school/college outfitters. Clever.
(However my daughter is "label proof" as it happens.)

Spring has sprung

The blossom is sprouting out at last and the birds are getting busy. Also, the first of the year's bluebells are out. Got to catch it while it lasts..you never know when it's going to start raining again.

Indignity of old age

My older, dog, Lucie, is 16 now. In doggie years that's over 100. So you have to be understanding in the fact that she's pretty incontinent now. Have got used to newspapers, mops etc but the whole process, I must admit, is quite wearing.
But she's been around so long, that I sort of feel duty bound to care for her.
All the love, the fun, (and the clearing up) we have had.

Reasons to be cheerful

I finally remembered my "bags for life" at the supermarket and didn't need a single carrier. Pat on the back for me.

Chavs and Chav Nots

My daughter, A, was telling me about Jack Wills branded clothes and how popular they are among people she knows.
I googled Jack Wills and read the Wikipedia description of a "British clothing and accessories retailer aimed at young upper class British students."
They are a sort of British version of Abercrombie and Fitch, popular among young royals and A list celebrities. They also hold social events and have a networking site.
So the class system really is still going strong...
And I thought everyone wore Primark these days.

back from the Isle

Got back late last night after docking in at Liverpool early evening. Had been at Douglas on the Isle of Man to watch D in the first Lotus car race of the year. The 1962 Elite kept breaking, so it was good that we took a tool kit.
You know what it's like, the bonnet of a car comes up and suddenly six guys appear and start scratching their heads.
The public roads were shut for the event and we had "base" in some quiet residential streets. The householders were very generous about letting race drivers leave their cars, trailers, gear etc stacked up against the garden walls.
Walked out with a tall lady called B to view from a point called Hairpin Bend, and my little legs had to run to keep up with her.
But we had a great view, saw some cars spin when they took the corner too fast. My hubby's car didn't like the steep hills and kept conking out mid-race. Never mind.
Heard lots of stories about the TT races, and in our age of health and safety you wonder how long it can keep going in that format. There are no MOTs on the Isle, and fewer rules and regs.
Oh, and I remembered to say "Good Morning Faeries" over Fairy Bridge. It's the custom, you know. And the island does have a sort of eerie atmosphere, set against the powerful backdrop of the Atlantic. I'm sure real faeries do exist there.

Hi from the Isle of Man

Am in the Isle of Man this weekend to watch some car racing. More on my return home. A noisy early morning drive to Liverpool in the Lotus and then, thankfully, a smooth crossing on the Steam Packet. (I'm an awful sailor. Don't have my sea legs.)
Have done the whole island, really, but enjoyed a blowy walk to the top of Snaefell.
Would love to come when the TT is on. Drove some of the course and can't believe that motorbikes zoom along at 145mph. Terrifying!

More thoughts about class

I muse on the issue of class quite a lot. My kids went to a "prep" school but I went to a primary school. I say "homework", friends say prep.
I know about tuck and lights out because my sister won a ballet scholarship and went to a rather austere boarding school when she was 11.
From our experiences, I wouldn't recommend it. There's nowhere like home and your own room when you're growing up, I think.
My sister had to share with five other girls in a draughty old dorm that was about as welcoming as a dentist's waiting room.
I think us state school kids had it easier, in those days. We finished at 3.50pm and just walked 10 minutes home. We thought we had it hard if we did two hours of homework, but our weekends were our own.
My daughter has to do all this "character building" stuff. Camp outs in the rain, meeting academic targets etc etc.
And what about gap year travel? Adventure travel is popular now and there's much to be gained from new experiences taken out of the comfort zone. But what about the down side?
I went straight to college from school, although I had travelled as a youngster with my dad's work. He was a pilot in the RAF and then the airlines, so we went to some exotic places.
But adventure travel means something different today and I think demand may be increasing. But I have to be honest. As someone who years ago did a lot of long haul travel, I appreciate the simplicity of time spent closer to home. (but that's not exciting, I hear you cry.)
Your thoughts?

Colourful sky

This cold/sunny/changeable weather is producing some amazing skies. This was last night's.

When pictures are louder than words

One of my paintings ressembles the contents of my head at the moment. It's late, I'm tired but my head is still racing with "everything to do."

A green day

The local supermarket (it's a fine foods one) has got into not offering plastic bags any more.
They hide them under the counter and you have to ask for them. When I went out this morning, though, I had forgotten my "bag for life" and so had to go through the shameful process of asking for a carrier.
This has happened very recently, partly due to the media coverage of devastation caused by plastic bags in the environment. Those pictures of turtles caught up in bag handles, or Indian children in water swamped with plastics, are horrendous.
Last year, when I was on the final year of my art degree, one of the students was doing a landscape project.
She had been painting the landscape in an abstract way, but all the time she had spent outside led her to think about one thing: plastics in the landscape and the way they were destroying the environment.
She wanted to express her idea in film, but her tutors had her earmarked as a painter and she was "not allowed to."
She was asked the question: "Are you an artist or an environmental activist?"
Couldn't she be both?

Cocked up Calendar

Everything on the calendar is cocking up at the moment. We ended up booking Glastonbury on a whim, then realised it was A's camp-out weekend so she can't go.
Now the Spain holiday clashes with a school exam, so I've had to see whether the school will help us out by letting L sit the exam over lunch. So that we don't miss the flight.
The problem is that flights on the Friday double from the Thursday night as it is a school holiday. S'not fair.

Just musin'

I was playing around with colour and paint today and a funny thing happened. The spoon I was mixing paint with had picked up some really interesting effects. It's like the artists' pallettes that are often more interesting than the painting itself.
The best paintings are the ones that paint themselves.

My first ever Glasto

Can't believe it. We've got tickets to Glastonbury this year, after long ago giving up the ghost due to not having a fast enough internet connection.
But with this year's registration system, it seems the tickets did not sell out straight away and that meant more folks have had a chance to apply.
No tickets left for the camper van field so that means camping. We are due a dry summer aren't we?
One thing's for sure, we'll be taking chairs. you don't get to my age without learning that sitting on the ground for three days is extremely uncomfortable.

Champagne Ma'am?

One of the long-running debates my hubby, D, and I have is about "class" and whether the class system still exists in the UK.
I think it doesn't, in that, for a long time now in post-industrial Britain, it has been possible to change the class you were born into. And, these days, if you can afford it, you can go anywhere. (I mean social events such as the races, polo, skiing etc.)
D was born in Lancashire when his Dad was just starting out in business; in the haulage trade. His dad left school at 14 and had a very poor background. He often tells of how he had no shoes, did jobs in exchange for stale cakes etc.
But he managed to climb the ladder and went on to do well. However, as far as he was concerned, he was and is, "working class."
They just like to drink champagne with fish and chips now, that's all. Tis good, though.
D thinks you cannot change the class you were born into. Me, I think anything's possible. What does everyone else think?

O to be in England now that April's here

Woke up to a light smattering of snow this morning. Rapidly melting with sunshine and blue skies.

A strange fetish

I absolutely love the smell of oil paint (which is basically linseed oil). It's so evocative and such a sensual medium.
The rituals surrounding painting are a big part of the process. Blending, thinning, mixing and applying the paint.
Whereas many women treat themselves with shoes and clothes, my own fetish is for tubes of oil paint in gorgeous colours. Strange, I know.
The thing about oil paint is it's a living medium; it shines on the surface of the canvas. Whereas, acrylics dry to a plastic finish.
I knew a textile artist who had to stop herself buying offcuts of fabric wherever she went and simply storing them.
One of my favourite stores is the hardware store, particularly if I'm trying a new product. Tomorrow I'll be trying latex paint; can't wait.

(I once knew a cleaning lady who felt she was addicted to the smell of cleaning products. Always use a ventilated space and check manufacturer's instructions.) Felt I had to put that.

Day by the sea

My son, L, had his friend W staying over and they had spent more than enough time on the laptop, XBox 360 etc. Ball-kicking was exhausted and they were bored.
Today started off perfect - brilliant sunshine and hardly a cloud in the sky.
The ideal time to head for the beach. For us, this means the Gower coastline and a 2 hour drive.
Some memories for us, too, as my hubby and I met in Swansea as students years ago. The lodgings and streets don't change, but the area is much more developed these days and the marina is very stylish. I wonder who lives in all these seafront luxury flats that keep being built?
I always feel a bit nostalgic and sad at revisiting my student town, but D says it was all so long ago he's over it now. Funny how memories come back; certain bars, friends you lost touch with years ago. Youth.
Even the prison was still the same, only the wall had been built a little higher.
Anyway, we stopped in Mumbles for a Joe's ice cream covered in nuts and chocolate, then headed for Worm's Head and a three hour walk.
Woods, sand and sea made for boy heaven and I filmed them zooming down sand-dunes and falling over.
A fish and chip tea was essential, before we finally drove the scenic route home.

Van der Graaf Generator

We headed North last night to Wolverhampton Civic Hall to watch a Seventies "prog rock" band named the Van der Graaf Generator.
I don't know much about these guys, but my hubby is pretty keen on them, as were loads of blokes in the audience. (interestingly, there weren't many women there.)
The Civic Hall is a work of art in itself, an art-deco building tinged with fading grandeur and exhibiting the signs of a glorious bygone age when the area would have been at its industrial peak.
The gig was just fantastic; three intense musicians and a spellbound audience. Beer and crisps were good, too.